


Who Dares, Wins

by Barricade_Boys



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: ABC Cafe | Red and Black, Canon Era, Drunk Grantaire, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Pining Grantaire, Poor Grantaire, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barricade_Boys/pseuds/Barricade_Boys
Summary: Combeferre could hardly believe the idiocy of his friends when they suggest a game of 'Truths'. When they suggest a game of 'Dares' too, he almost combusts; their leader, Enjolras, would never stand for it.Alas, Les Amis go ahead with it anyway. And Enjolras is forced to find out about the game in the worst possible way.In which Grantaire is dared to do something terrible and Enjolras becomes terrible in return.





	Who Dares, Wins

***

Combeferre shook his head at the immaturity of his friends, his eyes scanning their delighted faces like daggers. The Café Musain had fallen silent at the suggestion, the entire group of friends sitting with twisted smiles plastered on their faces. 

"Absolutely not, no." Combeferre had said, his voice desperate for this to be a joke. 

Courfeyrac, Joly, Feuilly and Marius nodded, their faces vindictive. Grantaire took a sip of wine, his face straight. 

"It will be a laugh." Courfeyrac said, his usual Irish accent making him sound insincere. Combeferre admired his free spirit. Courfeyrac was not tied down, he was studying for fun and not because he had to. He was a positive person, one who always had a smile on his face. And he was a flirt.

Combeferre was the opposite. He was a philosopher and he always thought about things logically before acting upon them. Though he enjoyed the odd dabble in rule breaking, what being part of a group that were planning to overthrow the monarchy, he was a stickler for the rules. 

"One game will not hurt." Feuilly spoke in an excitable tone. 

"You do not know, you are new here." Combeferre gritted his teeth, his throat hoarse. 

One game of 'Dares' may sound well and good to them, but he knows what Enjolras is like. He will not stand for the game being played in the Musain at such a critical time in their revolution. Lamarque has fallen ill. They must plan for their movements now, incase the worst happens and Lamarque passes away. 

"Come on Comb', it will be a laugh." Courfeyrac said. He had a tone that could make anyone do anything. Combeferre's attention fell onto their leader.

Enjolras was sitting at the table alone, his eyes scanning the pages of paper in front of him. He looked withdrawn; as though he felt like there was nobody else around. He had a feather placed in his left hand, making notes and circling important parts of whatever it was he was reading. He assumed it to be a newspaper. 

"Fine." Combeferre finally succumbed to the inevitable, knowing that the four of them would play with or without him anyway. 

"Just - one question." Joly said, his voice apparitional. He figgeted in his seat and glanced at his friends with darting eyes. "Are we also playing 'Truths'?" He asked. 

Joly was a nervous man by nature, Combeferre had learned. He had inherited the trait from his Mother. 

"We could?" Courfeyrac's eyebrows met in the middle, making him look daft. 

"Oh. Okay. Alright." Joly shook his head. "Carry on." 

Marius bumbled, his voice soft. 

"Do you not want to play 'Truths' too?" 

Joly continued to shake his head.

"No, I mean, yes. I do not mind." 

Grantaire scoffed, taking another swig of wine and getting up from his chair. He walked around the table and bellowed:

"Are we playing here? Or do we sit on the floor?" He asked, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. Marius laughed, joining him on the floor. 

"I think we ought to do it properly." 

Combeferre sighed, pulling Jehan to the side. Jehan had wide eyes, confusion written all over his face. He had not been involved in the discussion.

"They want to play 'Truths' and 'Dares'." Combeferre stated, making Jehan erupt into laughter. He stopped once he saw Combeferre was not jesting.

"Oh." He bit his lip. "That will not end well." 

"No, it will not." Combeferre said. "Which is why I want you involved."

Jehan shuffled. 

"No." He threw his arms up. "Absolutely not." 

"Come on, it will be fun?" Combeferre frowned, his efforts to be convincing failing. 

"Fine. But only to see Enjolras' fury." 

Courfeyrac and Joly sat down on the floor with the others, announcing the beginning of the game. Combeferre took one last glance at Enjolras, whose attention had not faltered from the page in front of him. The Musain was busy tonight, the sound from the front room was distracting. 

Les Amis had used this back room for months now, no women could enter whilst they held their 'meeting'. Yet, somehow, Bossuet had managed to sneak his sweetheart in. She was beautiful and innocent. And she had no idea what the cause was. Or the risk her lover took to be in it. 

"So, who is going first?" Feuilly quizzed, looking around with inquisition. 

"Hold on, I have an idea." Courfeyrac stood to his feet and made his way over to Enjolras. He tapped on the desk, barely getting the blonde leader's attention. "Enjolras?" 

"Yes?" Enjolras spoke, his head not lifting from the page. 

"Could I borrow some of your paper, we are over there studying and we forgot paper?" He lied, feeling a tinge of guilt for lying to someone so pure. 

Enjolras looked up, glancing over to the group of students in the corner and then at Courfeyrac. He had a sly smirk on his face, yet Enjolras could not be bothered to argue. He handed Courfeyrac a few pieces of paper and gave him his inkpot, handing him a feather. 

"Thank you, Enjolras." Courfeyrac smiled. Enjolras raised his eyebrows in response before turning his attention back down at the table. Courfeyrac waltzed back to the group of friends on the floor and sat, ripping the paper into neat squares and writing names upon each price. 

"We could have spun a bottle." Grantaire suggested, signalling at the empty wine bottles beside him. 

Grantaire was a heavy drinker, everyone knew that. And Courfeyrac hated himself for not coming up with the idea.

"Well, why did you not suggest that before?" He asked. 

"You did not state what you needed paper for, I did not know." Grantaire shrugged. Granted. He didn't, Courfeyrac had left the circle before explaining. 

"Okay." Feuilly rubbed his hands together, picking a name from the pile. "Oh, it is me. Can that be fair?" 

"Of course it can!" Jehan laughed. "Pick another." 

"Why?" 

"You need someone to choose your dare." 

"Or truth." Feuilly scowled. He hated this game. He hated being chosen. And he hated being the centre of attention. He put his hand into the pile of names and sighed at the person that came out, showing the group that it was 'Courfeyrac' written. 

"Truth or D-"

"Truth." Feuilly stated. "I do not trust you with a dare." 

Courfeyrac smirked, thinking about his question carefully. He tried to read Feuilly's body language. 

"What is the furthest you have gone with a woman?" He asked, making Feuilly flush a red colour. 

"Trust you." He rolled his eyes, figgeting a little. "I do not share your interest in that sense. I would much rather stay in and study my books." 

"Just answer the question." Courfeyrac laughed, nudging the man next to him. 

"Alright, but just understand that I did not have anyone helping me in this." He said. "I did not have a Mother to teach me of the opposite sex." 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, pushing him for an answer. 

"I have got nowhere with a woman." He admitted, rather sheepishly. "I just prefer to be alone, rather than wasting my time on a woman who is not interested." 

Jehan smiled at the confession. He too was unlike Courfeyrac when it came to women. Jehan loved the female attention he sometimes received, but he was a romantic. And he was waiting for the right girl. 

"That is sweet." Marius told him, making Feuilly ease a little. It was embarrassing. 

Joly was the next in the circle to pick a name out. It read 'Courfeyrac'. 

"Oh come off it. Have you only placed your name in there?" Combeferre joked, making Courfeyrac laugh. He did that quite a lot. For some reason.

"And why would I do that, 'Ferre?" Courfeyrac responded, with a slight wink of his eye. 

Courfeyrac pulled a name out and it read 'Jehan'.

"Oh Christ." He braced himself. "Dare." 

Jehan smirked, his eyes glowing with cunning. Courfeyrac prepared himself for the worst.

"I dare you, Courf, to go next door to the Café front and ask the waitress girl on a date." He smirked, rather proud of his idea. Marius could not think of a dare worse. 

"Oh." Courfeyrac gritted his teeth and breathed in, making a hissing sound. "I already did that." He grinned. "She accepted, of course. And I forgot about the date, of course." 

"You ratbag." Jehan cursed. He despised Courfeyrac's treatment of women and had made it very clear in the past. "She may have been the one."

"Jehan, she works in the Café." He said, as if it were obvious. "She is clearly not the one for me." 

Jehan had no idea what he meant by that, but he liked to assume he meant the fact that she was not a woman of the town. That was the only woman that Courfeyrac really deserved for his treatment of women in the past, he concluded. 

Grantaire sat in a huff. He only agreed to play because he wanted to see the others doing dares. But so far the game had been boring. 

Marius was pulled out next, with Joly pulled to ask the question. They expected another boring round as soon as they saw Joly's name. But the man was surprisingly vindictive.

"Bossuet's girl is alone." He pointed out, making them all look over. She was - indeed - sitting alone. "Go and declare that you love her." 

Marius shook his head. 

"Absolutely not. Bossuet will murder me." He said. 

"You have to, it is but a game." Grantaire encouraged him, making Marius frown at the brunette. Marius shook his head, standing up. 

"Oh, and make it believable." Joly grabbed his arm, releasing Marius when he scoffed. 

Grantaire studied the room for Bossuet, he was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully. Bossuet would go ballistic if he knew what they were up to. Marius looked uncomfortable, his voice low. 

"I - er - just came over to say something." He looked over at his friends, who were in bubbles of laughter. "Just that, er, you are very beautiful." 

It felt like betrayal, like he was betraying Cosette by even speaking with another woman. Even if he did not actually know Cosette - it still felt wrong. 

"And I believe I may be falling for you." He stammered.

"Maybe?" The girl gushed, her face turning pinker than salmon. 

"Yes, will you leave Bossuet for me?" He asked, at last. The girl shook her head, making the others giggle. 

"Right, okay." Marius said, slightly deflated yet not surprised. "That did no wonders for my self esteem." Marius said once he got back to the group. Grantaire sniggered a little, understanding entirely what it was like to be rejected. 

Marius' name came up again. He threw his arms in the air and huffed. Combeferre asked:

"Do you truly not feel anything for this Éponine?" 

Marius shuffled, blushing slightly. 

"I do, she is a good friend. But my affection lies with Cosette." 

Combeferre nodded. He knew that. He was just trying to be kind and not cause too much of a disruption to his friend by making him admit something bad. 

"That was boring. You are next as a punishment." Courfeyrac grinned at Combeferre, his eyes trailing on the taller man. 

"Oh, and who chooses my dare?" 

Courfeyrac smirked. 

"I do." 

"Blimey." Combeferre laughed. "Truth."

"Do you know what love feels like?" Courfeyrac asked. He asked because he needed to know this. He needed to know if Combeferre had ever been in love. 

"I do." 

"Elaborate." Courfeyrac invited. 

Combeferre would be lying if he said this was completely awkward. He had had this discussion before. Just not with Courfeyrac. 

He spoke nothing.

"Dare." Grantaire sighed, knowing he'd regret that. 

Courfeyrac puckered his lips. 

Grantaire swallowed hard, knowing whatever was to come would be something so shocking that he would regret ever stepping foot in this Café. Courfeyrac had whispered his idea to Feuilly, and the other man had widened his eyes and mouthed 'no'.

"Grantaire, I dare you to go over there-" he pointed in Enjolras' direction, making Grantaire's heart sink. "And kiss our leader straight on the lips however you wish to." 

Combeferre stood up.

"No, absolutely not. No." He tried to put his foot down. 

"Oh, come on! It will be a laugh." 

Not for me, Grantaire thought. He could already picture the look of utter disgust plastered on Enjolras' face.

"It is part of the game." Marius said, mirroring Grantaire's expression from earlier. Grantaire sighed. He had nothing to lose anyway. The man already hated him. He lifted himself up, steadying himself with the desk beside him. Combeferre grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You do not have to do this." He said, genuine concern in his voice. Grantaire shrugged and made his way over to Enjolras, his hands quivering. 

This was his worst nightmare. 

Enjolras was his idea of perfection. He was the epitome of it, for Grantaire. He was endearing, charming and driven. And he was inspiring. He had inspired Grantaire to be a better person already, he had been the light in the darkness. And Grantaire admired him.

Enjolras' ambitious plans for change in the country were admirable, his beautiful blonde curls were admirable and his blue eyes were deep enough to make Grantaire sink.

And he was sinking. 

Enjolras was in front of him now, still focussed on the book in front of him. Grantaire figured this was the exact metaphor of his life. He stood admiring his Apollo as the Apollo's attention was taken by France and by politics. He sighed, preparing himself for the next few moments. 

"What is it, Grantaire?" He asked, his tone unkind. Grantaire thought about backing out, looking over to his friend's smirks. Combeferre was shaking his head, motioning his hand in an attempt to get him to come back over and back out.

"I came over to check that you are alright, is all, your heighness." Grantaire bowed, making Enjolras look up. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked Grantaire up and down.

The man was unruly. He was dressed in green, his usual tone. His hair was a state, the usual hairs sticking up everywhere as they always did. It was almost surprising to Enjolras that Grantaire had good clothing. 

"Right." Enjolras cocked his head. "I am quite happy." He said. "Will that be all?" 

"No." Grantaire said, rather firmly. "Actually, I have something to show you." 

"Well, can it wait?" 

"No." Grantaire said, taking Enjolras' hand to help him up. The younger man pulled away from his touch, following the elder with a huff, his legs cramping a little from being sat for so long. 

Grantaire showed him to a corner of the room, pointing at a small crack in the wall. He let Enjolras go first, using his right hand to grab the blonde's attention back to him. Their faces were close now, Grantaire could feel Enjolras' breath as he spoke:

"What is this about, Gran-"

Grantaire threw his lips upon Enjolras', his eyes closing so not to see his disappointment. He pushed Enjolras towards the wall, making it impossible for their leader to escape from the connection. 

Enjolras looked awkward. And the group of friends could not resist their laughs. Combeferre felt so uncomfortable, this was pushing Grantaire too far. And Enjolras was so far out of his comfort zone that it looked like the kiss was almost causing him pain. 

Grantaire pulled away, refusing to look at the other man and turned around to walk back to the group. 

Enjolras sank down the wall, his legs giving up on him. He was in such a state of disarray, trying to get his breath back. Yet, he looked furious all the same. And Grantaire dreaded their next interaction. 

"I can not believe that you went through with it." Feuilly stated, still in a fit of laughter. 

"What was it like?" Courfeyrac asked, knowing that Grantaire had a thing for Enjolras. He did it for the best, he thought. His flatmate had been pawning over their leader for months, since they first met over a year ago. Perhaps the rejection would help him to move on. 

Grantaire said nothing, not wanting to even think about it.

"Are you quite alright?" Combeferre questioned, noticing Grantaire's paling features. Joly bit the inside of his mouth, his eyes scanning the drunkard in front of him. 

"I think he is about to vomit." He stated.

"That bad, huh?" Feuilly snickered. "I did not expect Enjolras to be a good kisser, but I also did not expect it to be vomit enducing." 

"Excuse-" Grantaire rushed off, his legs feeling like they were about to collapse in on themselves. He raced outside, to a small alleyway outside. 

Combeferre shuffled, not knowing what to do. It was not an odd occurrence to witness Grantaire being ill. He was often found vomitting after an alcohol filled night at the Café. But this was different. He had not drank nearly as much as he should have before doing that. 

"Christ." Jehan said, noticing Enjolras glaring at them all. "He does not look impressed." 

"Congratulations Courf, you have signed our death warrents." Combeferre said. He knew Enjolras would not take this lightly, it was Courfeyrac's dare. Courfeyrac shrugged, his eyes looking sheepish as he stared at Combeferre. 

Enjolras stood over them all in a domineering stance, his arms crossed over his broad chest in a furious rage. His eyebrows were shaped in a ferocious capacity. 

"I assume Grantaire's misery is amusing to most of you, is it not?" He said, his voice smooth but unruly. 

The friends looked bemused, their faces sinking. Courfeyrac felt terrible. 

"You are all aware, are you not, of Grantaire's feelings?" Enjolras inquired, his voice accusing. "And yet you still allowed him to do that." 

Combeferre sighed. He was right. They were terrible people for allowing that to go ahead. 

"Apologies, what do you mean?" Marius asked, his mind trying to comprehend what Enjolras meant by 'feelings'.

Enjolras knew. Of course he did. He was not dim, he was well aware of Grantaire's reasons for sticking around. He knew that the cynic could only be cynical when he was not around. He just never comprehended the full capacity of the man's affections. And that made him feel terrible. 

"This game is banned." Enjolras said. "You should all know better than to lower yourselves to this spineless bullying of somebody for their affection." 

Combeferre noticed that Enjolras had said nothing of Grantaire's feelings to him in the past. And it made him wonder. He seemed to be becoming very defensive. 

"France is in desperate need of a revolution. We must be the ones to ignite the flames within the people of Paris. We cannot afford to be distracted." He stated, being the voice of reason. His ambition, Combeferre thought, would be his downfall. 

"We apologise, Enjolras." 

Enjolras nodded, making his way outside. He grabbed a glass of water from the side and took off down the stairs, his feet stepping carefully upon the floor boards. 

Grantaire had curled himself up, his arms wrapping around his legs as he sat against the wall of the Musain Café. He was cold. And he was broken. His hands still quivered, his mind relentlessly scorning him for being so dim. How had he thought that kissing Enjolras like that was a good idea?

Enjolras cowered a little, swallowing his nerves as he knelt down beside the smaller man. He was shaking, Enjolras noticed. He was paling. Grantaire looked almost sheet white. 

"If you have come here to mock me or to complain about the situation then, not to sound unkind Apollo, but I am not in the mood." He said, making Enjolras ache.

Enjolras said nothing and started to undo his jacket, handing the older man his red waistcoat. Grantaire did not take it, he just glared at his leader with dumbfounded eyes.

"You are cold. You will shiver yourself to death out here." 

"But if I take your jacket, you yourself will freeze, Apollo." Grantaire put his hand up to refuse the piece of clothing.

Enjolras smiled. 

"Oh, I do not know. I believe I will survive." 

Typical Enjolras. Selfless. Grantaire was just relieved that the discussion had not fallen upon the game. 

"I apologise for the actions of our friends." 

Grantaire squinted his eyes, feeling Enjolras wrap his jacket around his body. It warmed him up instantly, both the extra layer of clothing and the mere interaction with the man that he adored. 

"To what do you owe an apology for?" 

Enjolras shrugged, at a small loss of words for the first time in his life. 

"Grantaire, you were playing a harmless game." He spoke with ease at last. "However, our friends took that game too far." 

"I apologise for forcing myself upon you." Grantaire said, his voice filled with embarrassment. 

Enjolras kept his eyes fixed on Grantaire, his voice becoming warmer. 

"I do not blame you." 

If Grantaire did not know Enjolras, he would have thought he was being egotistical. But alas, he knew the man sat next to him. 

"You were but playing a game." He said. 

Grantaire hated this.

"I have always known of Courfeyrac's cunning behaviour, but to put it into practice with one of his friends and to abuse a game being played so cruelly -  I never expected that of him." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Grantaire, I am aware of your affections for me." 

Grantaire sank in on himself further. His face burning an unhealthy shade of white, his hands quivering once again despite no longer being cold. He looked as though he were close to death. Enjolras took his hand within his. 

"I am not blinded by revolution so much to ignore you." He said, so simply. Grantaire adored this man. Though, he wanted to run from him at the moment. 

"Enjolras, do not mock me now." 

"Is this a mocking?" Enjolras quizzed, signalling down at their interlocked fingers. 

Grantaire shook his head. Of course it was not. But it was also not a declaration of love. So it hurt just as much. 

"Enjolras, I do not expect you to understand why I feel the way I do. But I do know that I should - perhaps - stop coming to the Musain." 

Enjolras swore his heart stopped beating at that. He dropped Grantaire's hand. 

"You do not have to do that." He said. 

"I do." Grantaire sighed. "All I do is get in the way. And drink all of the alcohol. And I have caused you such a disruption by kissing you in there-"

"It was no distraction, Grantaire." He spoke with a gentle tone. "The revolution can not continue without you." 

Grantaire scoffed. That was a lie. 

"I am serious." Enjolras stated. "Your presence would be missed." 

"All I am good for is being the bottom end of a joke." He threw a pebble from beside him, staring at it as it crashed into a barrel. "That was made evident tonight." 

"You are no joke." 

"I am a joke. My entire life is a joke, Apollo." 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire with sad eyes, the older man's eyes refusing to glance at him for so much as a second. He swallowed. 

"I have something to show you." 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. 

"No you do not." 

"I do." He smiled. "And it can not wait." 

Enjolras held his hand out for the older man to take. Grantaire huffed, accepting the offer and lifting himself up with the help of Enjolras. 

Enjolras showed him to a small corner of the alley, pointing at a small crack in the wall and spinning Grantaire around to face him, their noses almost touching. 

He took Grantaire's face within his hands and cocked his head slightly to plant a light kiss on Grantaire's lips. Grantaire tried to wriggle out of the grasp, feeling pitied. But Enjolras pushed him back against the wall, making it impossible for the older man to remove himself. 

Enjolras' mouth was smooth, his tongue well practised. He pulled away, breathing heavily into Grantaire's neck, kissing him lightly and grinning so wide. 

"Did Courfeyrac-"

"This is not a dare." Enjolras smiled, his teeth white in the darkness. Grantaire shivered. "And you are not a joke." 

He closed his eyes and pulled Grantaire into another embrace, his mouth yearning for more. Though Enjolras had never kissed anyone before, he knew this was the best kiss he would ever receive. 

"Why are you doing this-"

"I love you." Enjolras blurted out, unable to stop himself, making Grantaire snigger a little. 

"You love me?" He asked, his grin filled with cheek.

Enjolras shuffled in his stance, looking down at the floor. He had grown increasingly red, Grantaire noticed. 

"No, I meant - I think it is fair to say that I did not imagine it to come out so forceful." 

"How did you you intend to say it?" 

"Grantaire, I do not even understand why I feel this way. How do you expect me to put it into words?" 

"Thanks." Grantaire deflated. 

"I did not mean it like that and you well know it." Enjolras lifted the older man's face and put his forehead against his. "But I do love you." 

"I cannot see why." 

Enjolras faltered, taking a deep breath in. 

"Sweet Grantaire, you are strong." He said. "You stay with a group of friends that believe in a better world even through your cynicism because you have a good heart. And because your heart is full of adoration. You are a positive presence." He spoke with honesty. "A man that can love somebody that is unable to see past injustice and love nothing but his country, not even himself, is a stronger man than any." 

Grantaire bit his lip. 

"You are the man I choose to love." 

It was true, Enjolras had chosen to love him. 

"And I apologise for being so caught up in the revolution that I did not pay you any attention. I regret that with all my heart." He frowned. 

"I love you also." Grantaire smiled, pulling away from him to kiss his lips again, wrapping his arms around his body. "You are cold, Apollo."

Enjolras could not lie, he was cold. Grantaire handed him his jacket, wrapping it back around his slim torso and rellishing in the scent of his apollo. 

Once back inside, Courfeyrac had tried to speak, his voice becoming silent as he watched Grantaire hug Enjolras. Their leader made his way over to the group of friends again, his face a little softer than it was before he left. 

"I will hear no more abuse of Grantaire, do you understand?" 

"Enjolras-"

"Marius. No more." Enjolras put his finger up, winking at Grantaire as he walked away. 

Combeferre spoke first. 

"He seems chipper."

"We apologise, Grantaire. We were selfish." 

Courfeyrac pulled his friend to the side:

"Why are you smiling so much?" Courfeyrac almost knew already. Grantaire smirked:

"Enjolras loves me." 

***


End file.
